Flight
by the status is not quo
Summary: Told through the eyes of Angel and Max as they face the challenges and dangers of Pandora. Pre-and-During Movie. Rated T for Language and Violence
1. Things I Know

**DISCLAIMER: ****i do not own AVATAR or MAXIMUM RIDE.

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_Side-note: since it was never stated (to my knowledge) what year the Maximum Ride books take place in, I'm taking a little artistic license with their time frame and put them in eight years before the movie. Meaning Grace's school is still running, Parker Selfridge just took the administrator position on Pandora, and Falco (a character from the Avatar video game) is the head of security with Quaritch as his second-in-command.

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**max.**

There were two things I was absolutely sure about.

1) I was now twenty years old.

2) My life was going nowhere.

Wait, three things

3) Fang was dead.

This third sad truth of life was made painfully clearer by the sight of his cardboard casket lighting up like a match behind a heavy metal door with a glass window for funeral services. I'd known this was coming for a while, but that didn't stifle the scent of burning feathers and hair that a thousand-foot thick wall of brick couldn't mask.

I'd known for six years what was coming, just…not like this. Not by a whack-job extremist with a knife.

Four, no, five things.

4) I was alone

5) I'd failed at the task I'd been created for.

"Max," Iggy said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder, "how've you been taking it?"

Since he'd come into a large fortune from weapon development, Iggy had gotten his sight surgically restored. He lived with Nudge in the Canadian Rockies…in a mansion…while I was scraping by in a crummy apartment in downtown Denver.

"I knew I'd have to face it eventually," I sighed, still staring through the glass, as the last of Fang's remains smoldered.

"Gazzy says 'hi'."

Oh, yeah. Our little stink bomb was on the run from the FBI, I forgot. I couldn't even remember what he'd done to get in trouble. It was either fraud or use of an explosive device. I said nothing.

"Any word from Ange?"

I pulled a folded photograph from my jeans pocket, "Got this yesterday. She made it there, safe and sound," I unfolded it and showed it to Iggy, "the ginger is Grace Augustine."

Fifteen-year-old Angel beamed at me in the photograph, standing next to Dr. Augustine in front of a stainless-steel bed-type-thing that she said was a link chamber. Grace was a few inches taller than Angel, and had a kind but timeworn look in her green eyes. The photo had come with an old-school paper-and-pen letter describing Pandora, promising she'd use her powers for good if ever, told me she missed me, couldn't believe she was fifteen, and to tell Gazzy she missed him.

Angel didn't know about the Gasman yet. And I sure as hell wasn't going to tell her. Iggy smiled at the picture, stroking the filmy surface over Angel's face. "She really grew up nice." He chuckled. "God, I still remember when she convinced you to let her keep Total."

"That's when there was still a natural green," I deadpanned, recalling the days when there was honest-to-God nature on this planet. I was supposed to save it from turning into this. Didn't take long for everything to go to pot.

Iggy tucked the picture away into an inside pocket of his fancy business suit, "You know that program she's in?"

"The Resources Development Administration?"

"And the Avatar Program."

I stared at him for a good long minute. "Yeah?"

"The RDA needs soldiers…possible transfers into the Avatar Program too."

"No."

Iggy groaned, "Why not, Max?"

"I don't know the native's language. Isn't that like, a requirement?" I protested, not looking away from the spot where Fang's body used to be. "Besides, I don't want anymore adventure in my life."

"But Max, you can kick any Marine's ass! It'd make you the perfect recruit for Quaritch and Falco!"

"Why else?"

"Parker has been nagging me to recruit someone noteworthy that they could induct into the Avatar Program as a part-time soldier."

"So?"

Iggy sighed and I heard the fabric of his suit rustle from a shrug. It was too quiet in this place. "You're the toughest person I know, Max. I'm going there next year to help amp up their security system as well as see what I can do to improve their facilities."

I glanced over my shoulder, "Doesn't it take five years to get to Pandora?"

He nodded.

"And I would have to train for _how_ long?"

"If you get a recommendation from a higher-up in the company, no time at all. They'd just need a month or so to start growing your avatar."

"I didn't say I'd join that program."

"It's kind of implied in your case," he flashed me one of his old wicked smiles, plucking a couple of hairs off my scalp. "This'll probably be enough, don'cha think?"

"I'm not going to tackle you because I am a mature adult and this isn't the right place to do it," I said through my teeth, frustrated at the concept of learning a new language in only a few months. I hadn't been good with learning any kind of language, French or otherwise. And Na'vi was going to be a train wreck in my hands.

God, what had I just agreed to?


	2. OneThousandNineHundredandSeventeen

**angel.**

Five years in Cryosleep. Three months awake on the starship. Two days in Hell's Gate.

I'd calculated it time and time again…one-thousand-nine-hundred-and-seventeen days. 1,917 days since I started my new life. In this life there was no threat of death by crazy scientists or robots, no fighting for my life…but it also meant no Max, Fang, Iggy, Gazzy, or Nudge. Downside.

Brightside: Being chosen for the Avatar Program at such a young age. I was ten when I signed up. It'd taken calls to Itex, calls to Jeb–my "legal guardian" as far as the RDA was concerned–and a series of tests (not to mention hours of link simulation sessions) to make sure I was ready for such a difficult and dangerous task.

When you train for linking, you log hours that you spend controlling a human hologram and making it do simple day-to-day tasks, unless you get assigned for the more heavy-duty training; then you have to maneuver a human avatar around a simulated Pandora and try not to get killed.

On my first day at Hell's Gate I'd gotten some pretty strange looks from the soldiers and officers working the base. I'd been asked thirteen times if I'd stopped growing altogether when I was fourteen. People had thought I was someone's daughter; a few people went as far as to think I was Selfridge's kid.

Luckily some people on base had a clue that I was in the Avatar Program and escorted me to the link center to meet Dr. Augustine and prep for my first full link.

On my lunch break on the 1,917th day in the Avatar program I sat in front of a web-cam, my head tilted to the left, the little green LED blinking to signify that it was recording. Grace stood behind the camera, arms folded and looking expectantly at me. She called me a prodigy. She had no clue what I was capable of that allowed me to join up so young, so she attributed it to intellect – which I had – and a fast way of learning. I reached out and adjusted the camera so the nearby screen showed my face in a better angle.

"Are you going to talk or not?" Grace quipped.

I looked up, nodded, and began to speak to the camera, "Day Two on Pandora. Location: Link Center. Name: Angela Dorothy Ride," I looked to Grace and gave her a 'shoo' expression. "Things are going alright for my first week, I guess. Not anything exciting to report. Not that anyone cares…"

"Don't be so negative, boys don't like that!"

Again I looked at Grace, this time embarrassed, "I don't think I'll be fetching any guys while I'm on Pandora"—

"_People_ don't like negative thinkers," she clarified for me, giving me a wise look.

"Well _people_ don't usually like me anyway," I retorted with a small mimic of my supervisor, thinking of the last few months I spent on Earth. The dislike was very prominent. I turned my attention back to the camera, "Don't think I'll…I mean…I just…I hope that I have an adventure here." I reached over and turned the camera off. I exhaled, drooped my head, and lifted it up again, "Well, _that_ was awkward."

**max.**

"Holy shit!"

My body was pinned to the mat in the combat training center. I was gasping for air. On top of me was a former ensign that I'd gone through BS with a long time ago. He was wiry, tan, brown-eyed, and sweaty. He stepped back and straightened up, dusting off his hands. "You see, ladies? You cannot take this training and forget it the moment you step off the shuttle on Pandora. If you do, this planet will shit you out dead in two minutes—ten if you're lucky."

I finally caught my breath and stood up, "Again."

He chuckled, "You sure are a glutton for punishment, Ride."

"No, I just wanna make sure I'm getting it right," I grunted while he charged at me. My body tensed. I leapt into the air as he dove at me, snapping open my wings. He landed on the mat and flipped around to look at me, then froze. Stock-still at the sight of my wings. I landed, pinned him to the mat with my foot, then pulled out the small, unloaded training gun from my pocket and aimed it at him. I made a gunshot noise and mocked firing the gun. "Ya know if we were on Pandora and you were a native gone out of bounds, you'd be dead." I said nonchalantly and slipped the gun back into my pocket.

I was training more for being a soldier than an avatar driver. I would gladly shoot anything that threatened me first. Messed up? Try hearing the details of a guy who was eaten alive by a plant from a bystander. Everything on Pandora was trying to kill you. It was a sad and simple fact of life as an employee of the RDA.

An ensign behind me let out a cry of displeasure, "She's cheating! That's no fair! You can't enter the RDA with advantages like that!"

I turned around and stretched my wings to full length, "Two percentage points less likely to die. That's an advantage? I've had loads more experience. Hell, maybe I'll be in charge of you by the time you get to Pandora!" I spat bitterly, quoting what Selfridge and Falco had said about me over videoconference last week. I rolled my eyes and started to walk out of the combat training center. Three more weeks and I'd be out of this place and deep in Cryosleep.

A redhead soon called out my name and caught up to me. I ignored her as she babbled on about protocol and how I was needed in weapons training before the Avatar Research Facility needed me to show me my avatar. Yeah, my avatar, a five-year-old Na'vi-ified carbon copy of me. But hopefully no wings would grow. It would be a shock to the doctors that such DNA would transfer. Still, it'd be cool…if the wings transferred with proper body to wingspan ratio; I'd have a twenty-foot wingspan.

I went through weapon's training for the day with little emotion. Just aim and fire. Don't shoot anything that you knew wouldn't shoot at you, yadda yadda.

Upon entering the Research Center I was met with two recruits who were about my age, maybe a year or two older. One was tall, lanky, and had a look that screamed, "I got picked on in school!" The other was my height, had a kind face, and was holding a thick book entitled: NA'VI.

The second bumped into me as I tried to walk by. He stumbled back a bit and smiled at me, "Oh, hey, sorry."

My eyebrows rose. No one had apologized for bumping into me in this place. I cleared my throat and shrugged, "No problem. I should've been looking where I was going."

The first boy smirked and punched the second playfully, "Hey Tom, stop oogling her, will you?"

The first one, Tom, punched his friend back, "Back off, Norm! I wasn't oogling her!"

I chuckled, rolled my eyes, and started walking away, "Woow…" I really didn't want to get involved, but it looked amusing. I glanced over my shoulder at them and caught them battling. The book made an impressive thud as it hit the floor. I smirked at them and called, "Don't hurt yourselves!"

More sounds of a scuffle, then a hiss of, "See? You scared her off, Norm!"

Nerds don't change from location to location, I suppose.


	3. Neylana

_Author's note: All things said in Na'vi are in italics in this chapter._

**neylana.**

My fingers brushed the surface of the rock as I inched toward the mighty gathering of ikran before me. Behind me my friends quietly cheered on my endeavor, eyes glinting with pride. I let out a small, tense breath and stepped toward the first winged creature.

It screeched and hopped back several paces. I huffed, "_Very well_." And slunk around to the next, the same result. I wasn't sure of any of the ikran so far…until I saw the one barely hidden behind a jutting rock face several leaps away. A small smile crossed my face and I began to make my way to her.

"_Are you insane?_" T'sy-Ta gasped, noting my movements. "_Don't go there, Neylana!_"

"_But I am already going, T'sy-Ta!_" I called back softly, now climbing over the rock formation carefully. My feet faltered a bit and I lost a small amount of the grip I had once possessed. I quickly tightened it and scurried up the last of the formation. There she was, watching the air with slight anticipation. I smile a little bit and leapt over the top and land on her, quickly going through the paces of bonding and connected my queue to her own. I felt her tenseness, her panic, confusion; I sensed every move her muscles made. I laughed a little and let out a triumphant "_YES!_"

We fell off the edge of the cliff. I sent a gentle message and her wings opened. We lifted into the air—the Iknimaya was complete. T'sy-Ta called for me to come back, but I ignored him and continued on. I continued flying, over the jungles of Pandora, amazed at what I saw. Stunned by what Eywa was capable of controlling and creating…until something caught my eye.

It was a mass of grey and black. A color I wasn't used to seeing as a dwelling in Hometree. There was something about that thing…something threatening. My ikran and I flew in closer, me trying to catch a glimpse at what was down there. A shot rang into the air, whizzing past my head. I quickly glanced around to see what had tried to harm me and saw a strange thing aimed at me. I squinted to see what was behind the thing and saw the cause of my attack. Sky People.

I had my ikran whip around and head for Hometree, trying to contain my panic. What in all of Eywa's creation had driven them to try to kill me? Graceaugustine did not try to kill us in her school! Were these Sky People different? Enemies of the kind ones? Or was Graceaugustine one of the only kind ones among the Sky People?

T'sy-Ta was waiting for me in the rookery at Hometree when I landed. "_Neylana, where have you been? Your family worries for you! Do you mean to cause your loved ones grief?_"

"_I went a little too far, T'sy-Ta_," I said to him shakily. "_Are there different types of Sky People? Ones that kill and ones that aid?_"

"_What do you mean?_"

I blinked and shrugged, "_Simply curious_."

"_Did you see them?_"

"_See who?_"

"_Sky People,_" he pressed, leading me toward the fire several levels below where my family would be waiting for me, "_if you actually saw them you must tell Eytukan and Mo'at._"

"_I did not see them,_" I replied,"_they saw me._"

"_Where?_"

"_Above their dwellings. I flew over and they retaliated._"

"_How?_"

"_If I find out what they hurled at me I will tell you._"

He pulled me aside, into the shadows. He spoke in a hushed voice, "_They tried to __**harm**__ you?_"

"_Yes._"

"_Now you __**must**__ tell Eytukan!_"

"_I will not._"

"_If they sought to harm you who is to say they will not seek to harm us all?_" T'sy-Ta hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me close. I snarled and yanked my arm back, not appreciating his rough touch. "_Perhaps it would be best if I tell Eytukan myself!_"

I snapped at him, eyes lighting with anger, "_You will not!_"

"_Under the__** wise **__direction of your counsel? I think not,_" T'sy-Ta snarled back, turning around. He ran along the branch toward the base of Hometree, sending a quake of panic through my senses. I began to run after him.

"_T'sy-Ta! NO!_"

**angel.**

"And **that**, Angie, is how you scare off a banshee," Colonel Jones said nonchalantly, letting go of the MBS-9M Hydra and smirking at the retreating figure of the banshee. I blinked and looked closer and the back of the banshee. I gasped as I spotted a blue humanoid figure on the back of the creature.

I tugged on his sleeve to get his attention off his pride, "There's a Na'vi on the back of that banshee! You could've killed them!"

"Don't matter to me none, kid," he smirked.

I frowned and started climbing down the ladder. Halfway down I adjusted my exopack's mask to make sure it was secure. I breathed deeply, shocked at how ignorant and heartless people could be about other species. Colonel Jones looked down at me and called after.

"HEY! You can't go down unsupervised!"

"And you can't shoot at innocent natives!" I shouted back, feeling slight anger and how little remorse I knew he felt. "I'm going to tell Dr. Augustine and she'll tell Selfridge!"

He scoffed, "Ha, yeah, like that'll do anything. We're taught to shoot anything that comes at us. Shoot first, look later."

I let out a cry of disgust as I reached the bottom of the ladder. I wanted to fly back up there and shove him off his perch, make him pay for attempting to harm the natural state of Pandora. But I couldn't. It was wrong. Max had told me that so many times I couldn't just deny the words just like that. But I wished Jones could know the terror of being shot at…

An idea popped into my head, I smirked and began recollecting memories of fear from when I had been on the run with the Flock. I looked up at Colonel Jones and sent the fearful memories after the phrase 'you will feel' with my mind. I heard his shout of surprise, "HOLY SHIT! WHO JUST SHOT THAT!?"

I looked up at the colonel and shrugged, "I didn't see or hear anything sir!"

'Sucker,' I thought. Yeah, it was evil, I guess. But evil for a good purpose.


	4. Sky People

**Author's Notes:**

Oh my goodness! I never thought I would receive such awesome feedback for this little experiment of mine! I'm touched guys, thank you soooo much!  
A couple of things:  
1) I would like to officially announce that I have written out the last six or eight chapters for this thing!  
2) You will not see these chapters for a month or so, once I catch up to the chapters  
3) I have successfully found playbys for the cast so far, so y'all should check it out if you're wondering  
what Neylana, Angel, Max, T'sy-Ta, or Swxya looks like!  
4) I'm planning on a sequel (already? say _what?!_)  
and 5) THE AVATAR DVD IS OUT! YAY!

oh, and i think it would be AWESOME if you guys checked out The Hometree Initiative!  
and don't ask me how to pronounce Swxya. i'm not completely sure myself. -is not fully versed in na'vi-

**ENJOY MY RELEASE-WEEKEND TREAT!**

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**neylana.**

My mother glared at me across the family fire. My sister was treating the wounds I had gotten from my fight with Ts'y-Ta. Mainly cuts and bruises adorned my frame; otherwise my only injury was a split lip. Things between the two of us were getting too tense, in none of our previous quarrells had we actually pulled our knives on each other. I suppose things were changing. Weather it was my being changed or him I did not care, but I wanted it to stop.

"_**Never would I think I would have such a violent and stubborn daughter!**_" Mother scolded, "_**You fight when do not need to and you do not listen to your elders; you could very well be one of the Dreamwalkers!**_"

I sighed, and then winced. Swxya apologized for causing me any pain and continued cleaning my scrapes. It was then that I realized how badly we had roughed each other up. My father would not have been proud. More likely he would be ashamed of my actions. He believed in violence with cause, not without.

"_**He was going to spread lies about the Sky People,**_" I retorted, "_**he claims they tried to harm me, but he was not there and I know he is wrong**_**!**"

Mother huffed and muttered something about me never finding a mate I tried not to flinch as Swxya began to tend a cut on my cheek. It at first stung, then burned, causing me to draw in a hissing breath. I knew with every bit of my mind that T'sy-Ta had it coming. He had been my friend since we were only children, but he was as pompous as any head warrior whose status has gone to their head.

"_**That should do it,**_" I head my sister sigh. She was most certainly going to end up as a medical woman; I couldn't picture her as anything else. "_**I wish you and T'sy-Ta would actually get along these days.**_"

I got defensive, "_**He struck me first!**_"

Mother begged to differ, "_**You were being a danger to yourself.**_" Just like my father, I was a born fighter, and would soon be a warrior. Mother had nothing to complain about. I stood up and walked away, only to encounter a ball of bright blue Na'vi princess. Neyteri bounced off me and beamed up at me for a quick moment, then frowns.

"_**Neyteri, why are you in such a hurry?**_" I chuckled at the ten-year-old. She began to talk so rapidly I could barely keep up with her. I placed a hand on her shoulder to halt her, "_**Slower, please.**_"

"_**Sky People! They are trying to **_**kill**_** us!**_"

I shook my head and crouched to be at eye-level with her. "_**Who put that lie into your mind? They are not coming to kill us.**_"

"_**But T'su-tsey says**_"—

"_**He is wrong,**_" I said sternly, "_**they will not attack us unless we do so first. Does Graceaugustine try to kill us in her school? No, she teaches us and is kind to us.**_"

"_**T'su-tsey said that T'sy-Ta told him that they attempted to kill**_** you!**"

T'sy-Ta…

"_**He lies!**_" I snapped, then tried to recollect myself into a calm and composed sense. I looked up into the sky. It was almost time for me to go with Mo'ti and others from the clan to learn from Graceaugustine.

Neyteri continued quietly, "_**I overheard T'sy-Ta's mother telling yours that he desired you for a mate.**_"

"_**Your head is filled with such interesting things. Come, we have a…class to attend.**_"

---x---x---x---x---

**max.**

"I _what?_" my voice was outraged and shocked. I stared at the projected image of Parker Selfridge on the other side. I had no clue why the hell it was him I was talking to, but I would rather have heard this from the two-person nerd herd!

Parker's face was stone cold and emotionless as he repeated, "You. Failed. The. Exam. I'm sorry kid but I…but _Falco_ won't let me bring out a puny girl like you with no training formally; a criminal record; and for god's sake according to half the world you DON'T EXIST!"

"Because I was birthed from a _test tube_!" I gesticulated. Honestly, I couldn't have a birth certificate; I was an experiment! I'd never attended a school for more than two months, I'd nearly been sold to a dictator and I had been in a freaking AIR SHOW. How could he _not _know about Coalition to Stop the Madness? He had been a guest of honor as a special goodbye gift. 'Hey, thanks for screwing the planet! Good look doing the same to Pandora!'

I guess he could tell how mad I was, because he flinched a little bit. "Now, listen. I know your…branch…of the species is rather intelligent, but maybe you underestimated yourself? Maybe a few more years of in-depth training…like, three?"

I twitched, _three_? There was no way I was spending three more years on this piece of…I mean…how could…you get it. Now, normally I would handle myself with grace and maturity. This was somehow an exception. "Bullshit!"

He seemed shocked by that. I smiled despite my instincts not to. Hey, he was asking for a lashing. He looked like the type of guy who got his retainer stolen in middle school and then had it stuffed in the trash. Who received the oldest and noblest of high school bully-dom: the swirlie; who tripped on the stage during the graduation ceremony wearing a Spider-Man suit trying to pull off one awesome thing in his high school career. But I digress.

"I…I could get Commander Falco to tell you so himself! Three more years, Ride! Think of it as a way to master your Na'vi. According to your test results it all just seemed like garbled crap."

Before I could retort the screen has fizzed into non-existence. I let out an enraged cry and knocked over a cup of pencils. How could they do this to me? I was…I had…I had worked with the FBI! Kinda'. I had taken down things twice my size! Just ask the guy who used to control the training center's only AMP suit once he's done crying over the hunk of metal that it's become! I moaned and walked over to the wall. I then proceeded to hit my head against it.

"Why? Why? Why? _Why_?"


	5. I Pissed off a Great Leonopteryx

**angel.**

I carefully read the label on the oxygen tube connected to the exopack in my hand. Two hours worth of breathable air. I grabbed an extra tube and stuffed it into the pocket of my bag. I tied the bag securely at my hip and slipped out of the bunks, trying not to be seen.

This line of work only had a few downsides, and the one I hated the most was having to act like I didn't have wings. Sure, I could've shown them off and gotten all sorts of attention, but I wanted a fresh start on Pandora, to finally see myself as a girl and not an experiment or freak. And to do that I needed to keep my biggest freak quality hidden from the RDA. But the 'no-flying' thing hadn't lasted long. Nope, about two weeks in I was already sick of Hell's Gate and wanted to fly; to explore Pandora without linking in. So I started taking night flights. It was never pitch-black at night anyway, so I was relatively safe from how I considered it.

There was little security roaming the halls of the Gate at night past eleven-thirty. Most of them were either guarding the aircraft or asleep. Only a select few manned the large metal gate around the perimeter to fend off hostile natives and viperwolves. This made my night-flights a whole lot easier to do. Sometimes I even had fun with the men on top of the gate by making them think a viperwolf was running at the gate and had them shoot at the concrete that continued thirteen feet past the gate in any given direction. Their reactions were always comical. Before leaving the clean air of the inside, I pulled on my exopack and took a breath of the air and pressed the button to open the airlock.

Once outside, I pulled off the long-sleeved shirt I was wearing to reveal a second long-sleeve top in a light olive color. This one, however, had two long slits, through which my wings poked through. After placing the outer layer on the arm of an abandoned and faulty AMP suit I stretched out my wings so I could make a few three-foot flights a few feet off the gound to make sure everything was working right. After the initial test flights I took a running start toward my usual take-off position with my wings extending further to catch the wind. When I hit the position, I leapt into the air and started flapping. Grinning to myself I began my flight into the forests of Pandora, having the gunners' vision go dark for a few moments while I passed over the gate.

Nothing is more amazing than Pandora at night. Take my word for it. There's no total darkness, because the fauna is bioluminescent. It's like watching a lightshow for me, but also a way to clear my mind or think. So far on my flights I had been careful and safe, but tonight I was being risky: pulling tricks that I'd learned for the CSM air shows, doing barrelrolls, and even laughing softly to myself. For once I was fully enjoying flight again. Why didn't I do this more often? Oh God this was so awesome! I hadn't let go since I had signed up for the Avatar Program! Now I was actually laughing and having fun. I felt like a kid again…no for the first time. My childhood had never been childlike or innocent. I'd always known things no kid should know. But up here…out here…it didn't matter.

I dove down into the forest and began looping around tree branches and swooping around trunks. The wind combined with the rate I was flying at blew my hair away from my body, kept from going wild only by the staps that kept my exopack on. I didn't care if any Na'vi saw me at the moment. I could just kick back and enjoy myself until my air started to run low, then I would high-tail it back to the Gate. I looped around another tree and rolled in the air. Pulling up above the trees once again, I grinned and chuckled, then let out a triumphant, "WHOO-HOO!" while backflipping in the night sky.

While on my back, however, I saw something sweep over me with a large shadow. Once I had come upright again I stayed still, heart pumping from the physical activity I'd been doing. The shadow passed over me again, but this time I payed attention to what it was. It was a massive winged creature with scarlet, yellow, and black skin; it's wingspan was easily over eighty feet. I blame hanging around army soldiers and Marines for my language.

"Holy shit!"

My eyes went wide and I started hauling ass toward Hell's Gate, taking every twist and turn possible to evade the thing that was chasing me. My mind raced to place what it was as I heard its cries over the rushing of wind in my ears. _C'mon, Angel! Place it, place it, place it!_ It screeched overhead again and I started to fly faster, getting ahead of it before thinking that I could possibly escape it if I got above it. I went with my instinct and banked sharply upwards, letting out a sharp, cry of defense for an attempt of scaring it off. As soon as I was above the creature, I paused and breathed easier when he didn't attempt to follow. A few moments passed before I laughed, almost victoriously. I fell behind the thing and let it fly ahead before crying out, "What now, bitch? Hah!"

Not my smartest decision or choice of words. Could you blame me? My adrenaline was pumping and I had been around this kind of language for weeks. It had effected me and my attitude. But I probably should've thought things out for a few seconds longer, because the thing turned around and looked at me. A thought struck me. I was something small. With wings. Like a banshee only pink and white and green.

"Oh shit."

The beast cried again and I zipped into mind-control mode, convincing it that I wasn't food, but something useless and made it fly away from me. I stayed tense, keeping my wings flapping until I was certain it was gone before returning to Hell's Gate, trying to determine if I was in shock or something like that. My mind finally placed the creature as I landed in the Gate.

A Great Leonopteryx.

I had pissed off a Great Leonopteryx! _What the heck was I_ _thinking_? What? I let myself go for ten minutes and then I think I can escape some huge hulking thing because I feel good!? What if I didn't have my mind powers?

Oh, I know, **dead Angel**.

I hurriedly put on my outer shirt and opened the airlock to get inside. It was probably a bad idea to be breathing so fast from oxygen source to oxygen source, but not many people fly into a near-death experience at night on Pandora, human-wise at least. I was becoming more like Max, know that I thought about it. Such a dumb-butt decision was something she was sure to have done. I ripped off my exopack and bolted into the bunks, grabbed my VideoLog camera, then ducked into a supply closet.

I pressed the button and aimed it at my face. "I was just nearly eaten by a Great Leonopteryx," I began matter-of-factly, and began to explain what'd happened to me. Every time I heard footsteps or movement, however, I stopped and held my breath. But finally, my story was told and I turned off the camera with, "Location, Supply Closet."

I fell asleep in the closet to nightmares about Leonopteryxes.

I woke up to Grace banging on the closet door. "ANGIE!"

I smiled to myself. _Hey, _ I thought, _this is what it must've been like for Harry Potter every day of his life from age three to ten._ Grace yanked open the door and looked barely shocked at my condition. Rings under my eyes and a camera in my hand, huddled over it. She took a drag from her cigarette and folded an arm over her chest. "Good morning. Having fun?"

I blinked at her with bleary eyes. I was confused by her question, "Wha'?"

"Do you enjoy scaring me half to death, Angela? If so, please enlighten me as to _why_?" she began to scold me. Well, it figures. She didn't add my Cryosleep years to my age. To her I'm almost eleven years old. And by her tone it was like I had just run into a busy street to get my favorite rubber ball.

"I…I…" boy, didn't that sound intelligent? She gave me a stern look and I rolled my eyes. "I wanted to do my VideoLog in peace and I forgot to do it before bed so I came in here at midnight to do it. I fell asleep. I'm sorry I scared you." I yawned and began to stand up. My back moaned it protest, but I ignored it.

Grace sighed and turned away, beginning to walk down the hall. "Just be ready in ten minutes."

I nodded groggily, "Got it, Dr. Augustine."


	6. Year One WrapUp

**author's note:**  
hello, my faithful reviewers! i hope you don't mind me skipping  
through a very boring section of max and angel's RDA careers.  
i just thought it'd speed the story along if i didn't have to linger  
on the days and months of training and examination that would  
take chapter upon chapter in detail to explain like i would some-  
how want. please enjoy the summaries of what happened during  
the last few months of their first year through their points of view.  
and yes, the anurai actually existed in the world of pandora.

* * *

**max.**

My first year of additional Avatar training was fine, I guess. Not much happened to me, well, aside from the major exams I had to take every year to ensure that I was learning my Na'vi language and culture. Oh, and the tests weren't distributed by the program. They were distributed to myself only by Norm and Tom, apparently the only friends I could manage making in training.

You know how in all those "high school drama" movies there are cliques who all sit at the same lunch tables and the loner or the geeks are always given a wide berth? Encounter that in a real high school? Think it doesn't happen outside of high school? You're wrong. Tom and Norm were the guys whose table was given the 'safety perimeter' of at least one table in every direction. I think it was mainly because they spoke nothing but Na'vi during meals.

You think I'm joking but I'm not. Maybe they did it so I would learn the language but it all just seemed like mumbo-jumbo during most of my first year. It was only before the yearly batch of recruits was sent to Pandora that I actually understood a full conversation. The next day I had to say goodbye to Iggy, who was heading to that distant moon to help with strategic maneuvers and check security protocall.

He told me he was glad that I was staying another two years to fully understand the world I was thrusting myself into instead of doing things like I used to do, on a whim and completely without thought. Har-dee-har-har. I'd told him that maybe I was changing into an adult at last and he could count on me thinking things through about twice as much. He'd laughed and told me he'd see me in two years.

Two years was going to be a _lot_ of time to wait unless I got to know some of the Marines or soldiers who were training for Pandora. And I needed to get to know a few quick before I was stuck at the table of solitude.

**angel.**

What you probably don't realize about the Na'vi? It's that their kids are just like kids on Earth. They play around, they goof off, and they even tease each other. They just do it more subtly and they forgive more easily. At least, in the Omaticaya Clan, that's how it is. I was placed in charge of some youger Tipani students once in my first year on Pandora; they were more mistrusting than anyone I had met so far. They seemed to be angered quicker as well. Every time you turned around someone would be tugging on someone else's queue or a fight would break out. I'm told these children will turn out to be great and dangerous hunters, but I'm not so sure.

There are six clans of Na'vi on Pandora. I've only met two. But I've heard of the others. But, unfortunately, there used to be seven. The RDA actually _wiped out_ the Anurai Clan years ago and we never got word of it back home, I guess because it would've started a riot back on Eath and shareholders would've pulled out. Someday I'd like to see all of the clans, but I don't think that'd ever happen. After all, I'm just a scientist on this run. I'm not technically allowed to make contact with the Na'vi outside of the school just yet.

Which may be a problem considering Selfridge was threatening to shut down the school because, according to him, nothing was getting done and there wasn't much left to teach them.

My night flights continued to go unnoticed, at least, for a few months anyway. Three months before my first year on Pandora would be up, Miles Quaritch cornered me in a little-used hallway at two in the morning after one of my flights. He backed me up against the wall and pressed my hands to it so I couldn't run.

"Listen, Little Miss Sunshine. I know what you are and what you've been doing. Now, since you're a favorite of Augustine I can't ship ya back home or drag you to Court Marshal, so I'm going to have to tell you this now and you better hear me good. You don't breach security on my territory or on Falco's. You follow the rules, just because you have wings doesn't mean you're better. If I catch you defying security protocol again and you'll be on the next shuttle back to Earth."

Like that stopped me.

Grace still treated me like a kid, even after the found-me-sleeping-in-the-closet thing. If this went on any longer I'd be treated like a teenager by the time I was nineteen. I didn't mind it much. I guess I still wanted to be babied, even if it was by one person. The babying only went as far as the boundry of the Gate, though. When I was in my avatar, I was treated like a mature adult by practically everyone. Things are expected of you when you're venturing out into the forests of Pandora. One of those things is that you keep a sense of maturity, which I had possessed since I was three.

I only video-ed in to talk with Max once a month toward the end of year one. She was trying to get up to Pandora with me. I learned that Fang had died (not a big shock to me, I knew it'd been coming) and the Gazzy was running from the feds (how was I not surprised?). I told her almost everything I could; I told her how excited I was, how I'd met some of the Na'vi in the school and how interesting they were to me; I even once showed her a picture of me with the Na'vi girl I'd met: Neylana. She told me of the funny things they made her do in training; about the two guys she hung out with; and occasionally exchanged a few sentences in Pandora's native language with me. I started to get a little excited about having her come up here, but it would be only a few days that I could spend with her before I rotated out…unless I opted to spend more time.

I fully planned on extending my tour after my initial length was completed.

_**end of year one.**_


	7. Year Two WrapUp

**angel.**

My second year on Pandora was not much different from my first. Days came and went. I started to grow up even more. I listened to my fellow scientists at meals talk about their childhoods, what they'd lived through on Earth. I always said nothing or told of simple things, never wanting to delve into what I'd been through. Occasionally they'd talk of old musicals they'd heard or seen. Resurrected classics, mainly. I knew only two of the ones they spoke of, 'Aida' and 'The Phantom of the Opera', the rest were mysteries to me.

Halfway through the year my worst nightmare came to life. Selfridge got word that there wasn't anything left to teach the Na'vi…and he shut down the school. On the last day I had pictures taken with my favorite students and gave my new friend Neylana a tight hug goodbye.

Neylana and I were friends were friends on the basis that she kept the bigger native boys from the Tipani clan from picking on me when I stuttered, lost my train of thought, or said the wrong thing. We soon began talking about the politics of Pandora and became close. This made it very difficult to say goodbye to her.

The rest of the year passed with jabs at Selfridge by Grace; few videoconfrences with Max; days upon days of being able to do nothing but collect samples and observe wildlife. The bunks were locked at night, I couldn't fly. The second year on Pandora was a living hell.

**max.**

My second year in training was not fun. Just more language skills to be acquired and less chatting with Angel. But with each videoconfrence she seemed more and more distant, like she didn't care as much, almost resenting my arrival. But I guess I couldn't expect much, after all, she probably thought that she'd been cheated out of being leader.

Tom and I started getting on better speaking terms. With Norm? Not so much. We claimed that I was stealing his study buddy. There was nothing romantic, believe me! He just helped me get my Na'vi down pact so I could really get sent to Pandora.

Otherwise, there wasn't much to be said for what I did. Outside of training I did a lot of flying, knowing that more likely than not my avatar wouldn't be in posession of wings. Angel's didn't have them, so why should mine?

Yeah, I know my summary of my year sucks, but what did you expect? My daily journal? I don't even keep one! Sometimes years or centuries can be defined with a single word. Well, mine could be summed up in three paragraphs.

* * *

yeah, i'm sorry about the length. but the second year nothing exciting happened.  
more action in the next chapter, i promise! and it's all in max's p.o.v!


	8. You Get Nothing But a Cardboard Casket

**max.**

I let out a triumphant cheer as I left the bar, feeling a tiny bit tipsy. But it was a night of celebration. I had just gotten the all-clear to go to Pandora with Tom and Norm. Tom and I had gone out for a few drinks, which had ended up being one and a half for each of us. At least we were sober enough to walk back to our apartments. I grinned at him as we turned a corner into an alley to use for a shortcut, continuing a story that I'd started in the bar.

"And then Angel comes out, her face covered, absolutely _coated _in strawberry goop!" I giggle, "So I ask her what the hell she did to her face and apparently Gazzy had told her that if you covered your face in some sort of berry you'd have good luck!"

Tom started laughing too, "And she believed him?"

"Well, obviously!" Suddenly a gun barrel was staring me in the face. My laughter was cut short and I back up a few steps. Tom stepped forward, but I forced him back by grabbing his elbow. "Tommy, don't."

The guy on the other side of the gun's voice was shaky, "Wallets, both of you."

I shook my head and started slipping off my jacket. The only things that made being stuck in the city for most of my late-teen and eary-adult life was being able to ward off whackos hopped up on the latest drug. I tossed my hair over my shoulder, "No way. Choose someone else to hassle."

The gun cocked and Tom moved in front of me. What was he gonna do, recite the whole Periodic Table and scare him off? Speak in Na'vi and make him think he was crazy? He wouldn't try to fight, would he? Tom and I both knew he only knew enough hand-to-hand to take down an unarmed thief. Nothing like this…never anything like this.

"W-w-wallets. Now."

"Tom, just step back…he'll leave us alone if we leave," I whispered and started to extend my wings. I didn't want to whip them out just yet, it'd be the best choice, at least, I hoped so. Tom did not step back. The crackhead demanded our wallets again and I reached for my friend's shoulder to keep him from trying to start something.

The next thing I know a shot is going off and Tom is crumpling into my arms. I let out a shriek and fall to my knees to protect his body from further attack. I unfurl my wings and wrap them around the dying body in my arms. The thief quickly snags Tom's wallet while he can and bolts for it. I don't try and stop him, it's not worth it.

Have I ever mentioned how I don't like hospitals? How I could tell when something was fatal by watching wars and bloodbaths? Well, I wasn't taking him to a hospital. A) there was no way in hell I was going in one, and B) I didn't have enough time.

Tom's eyes flicked up to look into mine. He gave me a glimmer of a smile, "Hey…the angels look like Max."

I shook my head and looked over his body closely, watching blood pump out of one of his arteries in crimson spurts, staining his white shirt. "It's just me, Tom, don't flatter me when you're bleeding out, will ya?"

"I'm not going to Pandora, am I?"

I started to lie, "No, of course you're going out! A…an ambulance is on its way, I bet it'll be here in a few moments!"

"You suck at lying," he moaned, head drooping to the side. I made him look at me again. "You really do."

"What did you want me to say? 'Yup, Tom, you're gonna die, sorry!'?"

He chuckled darkly, "Yeah, that would've worked." His breathing started getting shallower. I started to panic, as well as noticing that his blood was starting to fall onto my jean leg.

"Tommy, Tom! Don't…no…no!"

Police and ambulence sirens whirred outside of the alley. I pulled in my wings and curled protectively over his figure when I heard the car pull to a stop. Footsteps drew closer and Tom was pulled away from me and I realized I was sobbing and yelling at the officers and EMT. "NO! LEAVE HIM ALONE! DON'T TAKE HIM!" An officer got me to my feet and lead me toward the ambulence. They asked me questions, but I couldn't remember much of what they asked. But I remember answering two questions they asked: 'What is your name?' and 'What family can we call?'

I'd told them to call Jake Sully.

* * *

In big cities in this economy, justice is never rightfully served. Back in the early 2000's you might have had a story on the news, a reward for the murderer's capture, a manhunt by the police the night of the crime…but in 2148 you get nothing. Just a cardboard casket and a few people to say goodbye, unless you're somehow stinking rich or a celebrity; then you get a real burial, with a real coffin and real mourners. Tom deserved that, though, a proper burial. Not a sendoff like Fang's, where only two people showed up to say goodbye.

I stood next to Tom's cardboard coffin, one hand on the top and my head bent, trying to figure everything out. I was dressed in black head-to-toe, heck, I'd even dyed my hair black. (I was sick of my hair color anyway.) In my other hand I held Gazzy's own, having lured him out of hiding to comfort me through my second death in three years. He stood awkwardly next to me, occasionally giving me a "comforting" pat on the back. Eventually I just shoved him away for not being helpful, but I didn't say anything.

"Miss Ride, we need to ask you to leave. The next mourner is waiting outside," one of the men who operated the funeral center said in a grave tone. I nodded groggily and left the room as the next person entered.

This must've been Jake. He was the spitting-image clone of Tom, only confined to a wheelchair. Tom had told me he'd lost the use of his legs in a war, that he was a marine, and I believed him more now. I passed the wheelchair without a word, but then the sound of the wheels stopped. "You Max?"

I turned around. Jake was staring me down. I nodded. "Yeah. I knew Tom in avatar training." I left out the part about being there when he was shot. "We were friends."

"Tom told me about you. He said you had brown hair."

I shook my head, "Not anymore. Goodbye, Mister Sully."

I never expected him, of all people, to pick up Tom's contract.


	9. Hired Firearms

**max.**

Army dogs. Marine, Air Force, Army, Navy, Coast Guard. If they handeled a gun or flew anything, they could be shot out to Pandora to be a hired firearm. I realized this when I walked onto the loading dock of my shuttle and found myself surrounded by the types of men and women that I'd seen around the military base during my training.

Luckily, I wasn't stranded in this military wasteland alone. Norm stood next to me, close to jumping up and down with excitement. He was grinning ear-to-ear like a doof, though I acted like a didn't notice it. I played with the ends of my recently bob-cut hair. Believe it or not, I was actually sad that I had to have it cut. I think I mourned the passing at first, but now I was completely over it. Five days of recovery time did that pretty easily for hair, but not for friends. Tom was still gone.

We stood in a large, high-ceilinged room big enough to hold a college basketball arena. To the left of me was a double-door which led to the room where all the ship-outs would be forced to sit down and strap in for one day until we were out into space a considerable distance.

"In three days we're going to be in Cryosleep! That's just amazing, isn't it?" Norm says, enraptured. I simply shrug and look around, noticing the practically tangible gap left from Tom's absense. "I'm going to go check out the shuttle, wanna come?"

I shake my head, he leaves, and I sigh heavily. So, this is it. No turning back. No chickening out. Ten minutes and we'll all have to file into the shuttle and strap in for departure. Then two days in weightlessness, and finally: five years, nine months, and twenty-two days of induced sleep. Would emotional healing go on during cryo? Would I be able to look at his brother and not think of Tom? Would I know I couldn't have done anything to stop it?

Probably not.

"Hey, Labrat!" one of the soldiers calls from the door to the room where we'll be when liftoff happens. I could tell he's talking to me. "Aren't you a little too innocent to be going to Pandora? The plants there could totally screw up your pretty little face."

I walk over to him and give him a look that screams, 'You wanna say that again?'

"I mean, I'm rotating back in. And even Science Pukes like you have had their faces turned to ugly. I wouldn't want a face like yours to get damaged. Besides, I don't want to save your pretty little ass, either."

I sneer at him and back up. I wasn't going to put up with this shit right now, "Why don't you kiss my pretty little ass instead of staring at it?"

His eyes widen and he walks away the way I came. I sigh again and close my eyes. Jake's voice cuts through the others behind me, "Your ass is kinda' cute."

I turn around and groan, "Will people stop talking about my ass?"

"Keep bringing it up and people will keep staring at it," he responds, smirking at me when I facepalm. Maybe I should just stuff toilet paper in my underwear and make it look lumpy and unattractive, maybe people'd stop staring at it.

Norm bounds back over to us, easily the same height as all the other soldiers. He's grinning, so I assume he's just seem some big scientific thing, which is like getting asked out in his geeked-out mind. "We're gonna be called in soon, Max! You wanna go get buckled in?"

I see he's totally ignored Jake behind me. Whatever. I nod and follow behind Norm–an easy feat when he splits the sea of goons for a good three seconds after he passes them. He sits down in the front row of seats and quickly buckles himself in just as the rest of the "science pukes" and "jarheads" come filing in. We're given a briefing of protocol on the vessel before takeoff.

My new life was about to begin.


	10. Cigarette Burns

**okay, I totally need to explain. So…I**

**lost my copy of AVATAR for a few **

**days…weeks…okay I lost it for a **

**month! Not my fault. Blame my**

**brother! He took it to school and **

**didn't bring it back until the end**

**of the year, grr. And then he hid**

**it. So I just barely got it back and**

**it's hard to get back in the swing of**

**things again. But updates will totes**

**be more frequent ^^**

**angel.**

I sat on top of a desk in the Avatar Center, watching a live feed from a security camera on a tablet while reaching for the back-up pack of cigarettes Grace kept in the top drawer. The shuttle carrying the newest recruits–"science pukes" and soldiers alike–was landing, and I had a feeling this was Max's. I set down the tablet and focused my attention on getting a smoke.

My hand finally closes around the box and I'm able to pull out a cigarette from the box and a match from my lab coat pocket. I light said match and hold it to the end of the cigarette, then the cigarette to my lips as I put out the match. I take a long, refreshing drag and close my eyes after glancing at the screen. Graced hollers at me from across the Center where she's preparing to link in. "I see that!"

I pull the cigarette out of my mouth, exhale and call back, "I'm _twenty-three_!"

"I don't care, put it out!"

"Says the doctor who smokes a pack when she's taking a day off," I mutter, taking a second drag before dropping the cigarette and stomping it out beneath the heel of my boot. I raise my voice when I formally respond, "I can do whatever the hell I want! I'm legal!"

"Not on my watch!"

Before I can snap back she's closing the lid on her chamber and I have no contact with her. I snatch up my tablet again to watch the newbies come off the shuttle. Most seem strong, capable of what they'll meet in Hell's Gate…and then _he _rolls off the ramp. Shaved, just like the rest of the men, strong on top, but he's in a wheelchair. A _wheelchair_? Who the hell authorized that?

But after Meals on Wheels leaves my digital line of sight, a girl comes into view, shoulder-length black hair whipping around in the backlash of the engine. She's keeping up with the guy in the wheelchair…for now. Then she bolts for it, getting out of the way of an AMP. I zoom in on Wheels and show it to the nearest scientist. "How in the _hell_ is he gonna survive?"

My co-worker laughs and shakes his head, "A whole lotta prayers, kid."

"People still do that?" I ask, lighting another cigarette and starting to smoke it.

"Just the really _insanely_ old-fashioned people around here," he chuckles. I nod and he takes my cigarette, takes a drag, and hands it back. I scowl, but go on as if nothing had happened. "So…have you considered getting intimate with anyone?"

I whap him, "No one gets intimate here. I'm not. Everyone here has known me since I was fifteen. Talk about awkward." I roll my eyes.

"Maybe in this batch of recruits you'll find someone."

I whap him again, "Charles, shut it before I press this ciggy into your cheek."


	11. A Compelling Mix of DNA

**max. **

I walk through the crowded halls alongside Jake toward the comissary, keeping my head bent in an almost respectful manner. Without my winged advantage, any of the soldiers I see could probably kick my ass. After all, I'm a grub, a science puke, meant for research and evaluation. My lips are pressed softly together and my eyes flick up occasionally from my booted feet to see my co-workers, who give me amused looks.

"Are you worried?" asks Jake, causing me to look down at him, the corners of his lips are twitching up, like he's about to smile but won't allow himself to. I keep my face emotionless as I respond.

"What do I have to be nervous about? All I'm doing is research, right? Not putting my life on the line," I brush my hair out of my eyes and shrug to hitch my bag higher up on my shoulder. He gives a dry chuckle, I look him over again. Does he know something I don't? I never told Tommy about my wings…so Jake couldn't know, right?

We enter the comissary and I take a place a few steps closer than him, not craning my neck to get a clear glimpse at the man in front. To be frank it isn't hard. He's pacing in front of us like some sort of predator. He's giving a speech, reinstilling what most had been told in training or had heard about beforehand. He stops with perfect military posture, informing us that we're on Pandora, and not Kansas. (No fricken duh.) I tug on my pigtail and train my eyes on him, not entirely enraptured by his words.

"Out beyond that fence every living thing that crawls, flies, or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat your eyes for jujubees."

Any side-conversations at that moment end abruptly. I barely pay attention as he continues. The Na'vi, the indegenous humanoids, deadly arrowtips. I've heard this before from Norm and Tom, read it in books, seen illustrations of the species–or at least the Avatars that look so similar to them–on recruiting posters and billboards.

My face falls when I think of the billboards and posters. Me and Fang had once sat atop one and talked about recruits and Pandora.

* * *

It was ten years ago, just outside of New York City. The Resources Development Adminstration had just started another campaign for new recruits. We sat on top of a billboard advertising the company and the good it was doing for our planet. Fang and I had gotten McDonalds, about seven orders of large fries and a Quarter Pounder with Cheese to split.

Fang offered me one of the french fry containers with that half-smile of his. I took it with a nervous smile and started chowing down. I was twenty-one and still getting nervous about dating. Mainly it was because we'd just gotten over a bad fight. We actually hadn't spoken in months. This was basically our way of making up. Food was always a lure for me, especially since I had no job and was reverting to eating roadkill again.

"Stocks for the RDA are up," he informed me, taking out a fry order of his own. He hung around the stock exchange then, blogging about his thoughts about both the market and the government.. "Probably because they just found a new stash of unobtanium and definitely a slew of Na'vi artifacts for research back here."

I speak with a mouthful of deep-fried potato, "I heard about the artifacts." I swallowed. "Not about more unobtanium. Don't you think the RDA should put up a front here, too? Start cleaning up the planet already?"

He nodded as he chewed, looking like he had something on his mind. I gave him a questioning look I knew he recognized and he spoke softly, "I've been thinking of getting shipped out."

I nearly choked on my fries. I swallowed, coughed, and spoke hoarsely, "_What_? But–but _why_?"

"Maybe I could do more good for Pandora than for Earth."

I pulled my hair behind my ears cautiously, chewing on my lip, "We're only in a slump, that's all! Once we get everyone back together"—

"Max," he set down his food and cupped my face in his hands, "the Flock is never going to get back together. Angel is on her way out already, Gazzy is likely to blow up the Statue of Liberty on 'accident' soon, Iggy and Nudge are perfectly happy in their lives. I've got plans!"

He paused for a split second.

"It's like the only one who hasn't moved on…is you."

I spluttered for words. I had _so _moved on! I had tried getting a job…but it'd mostly been activist work…I'd tried going to normal school but I'd gotten expelled for fighting. Maybe Fang was right…maybe I _hadn't_ actually moved on. Maybe I was still Snap-Decision Max, caught in her teenage mindset of saving the world. But what the hell could I do about it? I was meant to save the world!

Wasn't I?

Fang kissed my forehead gently, most likely sensing that I was working myself up–probably because I made a face when I did–and smoothed down my hair. "We could go together. Just you and me, no Flock, on a whole new planet to start whole new lives. We could be drivers."

I shook my head and pulled away, "What if I miss my chance to save the planet just _traveling _out?"

"Max…" he groaned, turning away to face out toward the city lights. "When will you give up on this 'saving the planet' stuff? It's not going to happen, haven't you looked around? The planet has fallen to shit!"

"Everything deserves another chance!"

"We tried giving it another chance!" he argued quietly. I stood up, angered by this. We tried, but that had never worked because our Flock had fallen to pieces! I extended my wings to their full length, preparing to up-up-and-away.

"Will you not overreact this time?" he asked calmly.

"I'm not overreacting, if I stay, I just might, though."

"So leave. You know where I'll be. New York Stock Exchange, right where you met me this afternoon," he dead-panned. He didn't give a damn anymore, did he? World-weary just like Nudge and Angel. I growled softly and took off, not caring where I wound up.

That was the last time I'd seen Fang alive.

* * *

Someone's elbow digs into my ribs. I inhale sharply and look at my offendor to see the man who'd been adressing the new recruits looking down at me. The first thing that cleary stands out to me are the scars running along his scalp and down his face. I guess without the scars he'd be rather attractive. Another glance around the room reveals that we are the only two in the room aside from janitorial staff. I suddenly place his face. Miles Quaritch, the man I'd spoken with when I'd begun my training nine years previously.

"Would you like to tell me why you're still here Dolly Daydreamer?" he asks, stepping a bit closer to me, instilling the shock factor in the pit of my stomach.

I clear my throat. "Maximum Ride, we spoke once during my training." His gaze narrows. I'm going to have to clarify. "The winged chick."

He pauses, giving me the stink eye, which softens into slight approval. "The mutant. Do you know if your avatar has wings, Ride?"

"No, I saw indentations before I left Earth, though," I say cautiously, tracing my wing bumps with my right hand to indicate where I'd seen them. My avatar body had only been about sixteen then, however, which makes me nervous. "Permission to leave, Colonel Quaritch?" It takes a great amount of effort not to resort to my old ways of snarkiness.

"Granted," he nods, to which I reply with starting to leave and hoisting up my bag. "But Ride," I stop, "I'll have my eye on you. You have a compelling mix of DNA in that avatar body."

I'm suddenly glad my back is to him, because I've taken on a look of both fear and curiousity. What could he possibly care about that for. Was he trying to be nice? I seriously doubt it but there's always a chance.

"I know, sir," I reply and turn my head slightly over my shoulder.

"Good."

I hesitate and turn my head forward once more before rushing out. I needed to get with people I knew. If there was anything I was certain of it was there was safety in numbers.


	12. This Could Mean Danger

**angel.**

I stick a pen in my hair to keep it in a tight bun as I make my way to Bio Lab. It's my job to do initial inspection of the avatars before they're put into use whenever Grace is busy. Needless to say I've done this job a lot in my years with the RDA. My shoes touch the ground gently, but still make noise. I don't mind it's been a good day so far so there's no need to worry about noisy shoes–they were last on my list of priorities anyhow.

Max Cullimore calls me over to the first of three avatars shortly after I enter the lab. I nod and head quietly over. I punch in 'XD18J' on the keypad to receive this specific driver's information. A small hologram pops up just above the nearby screen, displaying the I.D. photograph of the driver.

_Doctor Norman Marcus Spellman_

_Thirty-Two Years of Age_

_Anthropologist_

"Well, Norman, let's see…" I trail off for a few scant seconds as I take a clipboard offered me by Max and begin to take notes, "how your avatar turned out."

I examine every visible portion of the blue figure for a good fifteen minutes. I check the other charts on the other two screens as well. His muscle tone seems fine, and by all means I can classify this one as healthy and safe to operate. I look to Max and nod before continuing onto the next amnio tank. I repeat the process as before, only this time I hesitate. The information didn't match up with the norm of other drivers.

_Jake Lee Sully_

_Twenty-Eight Years of Age_

_Marine_

_Venezuela Veteran_

_Paralyzed_

"Max?" I call and beckon him closer. He obeys and I point to the monitor. "The hell is this?"

The thought crosses my mind that this must be the wheelchair-bound man I'd seen earlier on the security feed. I'd expected him to be just security detail or something like that. Not a driver. And wasn't there supposed to be a Thomas Sully? A doctor who'd studied for years for this job? Related, maybe? Max was saying something, but I wasn't paying attention. I hold my hand over his mouth to shut him up, "Swear to God, Max, tell me that Thomas is arriving here in the next year or two or I'm going to flip."

He pushes my hand away and pats my shoulder, "Don't you remember? Tom died three weeks before getting shipped out. He had a twin brother who took up his contract. We really lucked out."

My eyes widen and I touch my forehead to the glass of the amnio tank, sighing in exasperation. My only hope was that this Jake guy has lab experience otherwise we're screwed. A Marine in an avatar body could spell disaster for the whole damn company. Who'd even Okayed this? It was probably Selfridge. That asshole! I'm going to tell Grace the moment I have the chance.

I groan and close my eyes, counting backward from twenty in my head to calm down, then set about with the examination. His avatar checks out as well. "One to go."

I stride quickly over to the final tank, Max right behind me. I punch in the code once more and my heart stops for two beats.

_Maximum Ride_

_Thirty-One Years of Age_

_Avian-Human Hybrid_

"Max…" I whisper, thinking of the woman who'd raised me and tried her best to keep me close when everything else in the Flock was falling apart. Cullimore gives a hum of recognition but I wave him off. "No, not you. I know this one. Maximum." I lean in closer to the screen and mutter, "What the _hell_ did you do to your hair?"

Cullimore clears his throat and gives me an annoyed look, "Get on with examination, Angie."

I roll my eyes, but go on with my duties, humming softly as I do so. After all, the drivers could be here at any moment. We have to be ready to show them to their drivers and tell them how soon they can be driven. It's protocol.

But there's something wrong about Maximum's avatar. Maybe it's harmless but it's caught my attention. My voice is worried as I call out, "Max_, _Max come see this. _Now_."

"What?"

I trail my finger along the glass of the amnio tank, pointing out what'd freaked me out: two long, feathery bumps along both sides of the avatar's spine that looked like folded-in _wings_. The avian DNA had transferred. Actually transferred. This is either a marvel or an emergency; I just can't discern it quite yet. "Y'know how her record said she was a hybrid?"

"Avian-Human, correct?"

I nod, but continue faintly, "I think the avian DNA made a successful transfer. Three different types of genes in a single body…" I can't help but sound awed, "who could've imagined?"

"So either this will be completely new and exciting," Max concludes, "or this will end in disaster with Maximum loosing both her avatar and quite possibly her life."

"We'll have to inform her of the risks. The avatar may not be able to function properly. If it does…best-case: all the benefits of avian genes will transfer as well and she'll be powerful tool to aide in our research. Worst-case: she has all the benefits and Selfridge will turn her into a weapon if Quaritch doesn't beat him to it." I huff and stand upright. "Either way the body seems healthy."

"Angela, did you even listen to me?"

I roll my eyes, "Yes, I listened to you. And I'm going to tell her that she will be facing severe mental damage if something goes wrong with the avatar like the DNA starts to fall apart. But based on these readings she'll be safe for now!" I thump the clipboard with the back of my hand. I place that hand on his shoulder and give him a soft shake paired with an enthusiastic smile, "Trust me."

* * *

**author's note:**

**okay, guys! i'm finally getting into the  
****hang of things again…and hopefully this  
****chapter was as good as chapter eleven!  
i started work on a cover–like for a dvd  
or a book–for this fanfiction. i'll put it up  
****on my dA account once it's done. follow  
****me there if you want, i'm skippy-in-wonderland  
(shameless plug) **


	13. Nerves

**angel.**

My hands fiddle with the log camera as I sit myself down on a desk in the Avatar Center. I still have no clue how to do a log while I'm moving from place to place, though I've tried many times. I've settled on updating when I have time, which gets hard when people rotate in. But this time I've managed to accomplish my duties quickly and effectively, and I have time to get in a log before the first time the newbies link in.

"Location: Avatar Center. New drivers came in today; which is a blessing…and a curse. Blessing one," I hold up one finger, "none of the avatars got screwed up or had any problems. Curse one: One of the drivers is Maximum." I clear my throat. "N-not that I'm mad to have her here…it's just…I expected her to be her later. God why now? And with that paralyzed Marine. Grace isn't going to be happy."

I stop to look around. My eyes scan for Max or Norman, not wanting my complaints to be overheard. I'm not sure weather to continue my complaints and worries, so I simply shut off the camera, deciding not to push my luck on this front. I sigh softly, wondering why it's taking so long for the new drivers to get to the Center. It isn't that hard to find, is it? It was so close to the BioLab and basically all you had to do was follow the white lab coats. I pull my leg up and tuck it against my chest and my brow creases in worry. Normally I don't get worried about those who are rotating in–especially if they're rotating back–because I always have the feeling that they'll all make it within a reasonable timeframe. But this time that feeling isn't as strong. Maybe it's because of the two Wild Cards that had come with this batch of drivers. At least I wasn't biting my nails or hitting my head against a wall, which were my ultimate signs of worry and distress.

I need a cigarette, and I mean _really _need one. My hands are starting to shake a little, not that I'm an addict or anything. I try hard to restrict myself to one or two a day, maybe a pack total in a couple of days or a week. But when I'm worried, nervous, or stressed, I need another. And I'm a mix of all three at the moment. Just one cigarette, that's all I needed, then I would feel more relaxed and then I would manage until the new drivers arrived or Grace came out of link. Cullimore had told me he would bring Max to light about her avatar and the dangers of using it when he saw her, so at least I didn't have to drop a bomb and the woman who'd been like a sister–or moreso a mother–to me the moment I saw her. I knot my hand in my hair and groan softly.

I wonder for a moment just how much I've changed over my eight years in the Avatar Program. Well, I was already mature for my age when I'd arrived, though I still possessed some of the qualities of a ten-year-old, such as curiousity and being easily amused. I'd outgrown those quickly, though. I'd matured, mentally and physically. I was now completely filled out and I had one of the traits I had admired in scientists and in adults I had seen on movie and television screens growing up: nice teeth. I still get pimples and zits, and my hair is frizzy on most days unless I wrestle with it for two hours. My face isn't as desireable as I would want it, and I'm just a little too skinny, which would be nice if it was a nice too-skinny, but it had turned out as a not-nice too-skinny. It was almost like I was really, _really _frail. Like a gust of wind would topple me. As far as attitude, I seem to have taken on a version of Max's. But this I don't mind…not so long as I don't wreck whatever close relations I have. I guess I can consider myself a successful transformation from adorable little baby dove to an alright grown-up owl or falcon.

"Angie," the voice of Sturgis–a young tech whom I have taken a shine to–snaps me to attention. He wears the typical attire for his lot, save the cigarette in his shirt pocket which I know is for Grace once she comes out of link. I wouldn't say he was sexy, just sort of average, by my standards he borders mediocre, which is perfectly fine. I like mediocre. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose, though I don't point it out to him. I give him a nod, allowing him to proceed.

"D-d-do you want to take your lunch break real quick?" he says timidly. He hesitates, looking for the right words to say. I don't even dare to look into his mind. "W-w-w-with me? Not like a _date_ or anything! Just two collegues, talking about work over a nice tortilla wrap with no mayo just like you like it?"

Sturgis knows everything about me and Grace, mostly because Grace terrifies him and I scare him. He knows my favorite meals, Grace's favorite table in the commissary, when we like our little guilty pleasures, even our monthly cycles so he knows when to tell people not to mess with us. Some will say this is creepy, but at least it's better then having to do it ourselves.

"No thanks, Sturgis," I roll my eyes and try not to yank out my hair. "I'll eat after the new drivers get to the Center."

He persists, "A-a-are you sure, Angie? You get really antsy when your blood sugar is low! Like a toddler in need of a nap, fussy and nervous."

I send a glare his way. Why would he refer to me as a toddler? I didn't get _that _bad when I was hungry…just a little snappy and, well, fussy was a good word, but not at all like a toddler! God, where had he drawn that conclusion from? It was just absurd that someone…I can't let myself get too worked up over this. I take a deep breath or five before I give Sturgis a warning glance and he scurries away, apologizing under his breath as if it will help. If only it could, that would make life so much easier…so much simpler.

But it didn't help, because life has this really annoying habit of being complicated and confusing.

Damn you, life.


	14. Kaltxì

**angel.**

Cullimore has finally gotten me to eat by the time I hear unfamiliar voices in the BioLab. The newbies are finally here, thank god! I crane my neck to get a glimpse at them, one is in a wheelchair–this must be Jake Sully–one is reasonably tall, I place his face as Norm by simple process of elimination. The last figure confuses me. It's female, so I know this must be Max. But she carries herself differently; she stands up a little less straight than the last time I saw her, her head is bowed, but not out of respect, but out of some sort of shame. To top this all off, she's frowning and keeping her hands in her pockets. I chance moving to the edge of the Link Room to watch her for a second, only a second, and see her eyes searching Jake's face as if she's trying to find something in it. But it seems like she's not finding what she's looking for.

I furrow my brow and move back to the Link Room, typing in codes to bring up files on the drivers currently in-link. I glance over my shoulder to see Cullimore pulling Max aside, probably warning her of the dangers of her avatar, confiding how unsteady the DNA structure probably is. I walk over to my station and pick up my little mirror to check my hair, wondering if I look official enough to be taken seriously, then roll my eyes at the very thought. I'd rather be taken seriously for how I act, not how I look.

I catch myself wandering over the BioLab only to find the new drivers gone, only until I catch Norman and Cullimore touring the lab. Jake must be with them…or working on his first log. I finally find Max sitting at a workstation, setting up the camera for her fist log, and watching someone next to her for confirmation that she's doing it right.

Slowly I make my way over just as Max begins her first log, sitting a yard or so away from Sully to keep the sound from overlapping.

"It's on now, right?" she begins and clears her throat, seeming uncertain. "Well…here I am…on Pandora. Doing what I'd swear to myself I'd never do. I guess it makes sense now. I've started a whole new life here, and everyone accepts me as a human being.

"So my avatar–which is insanely expensive, by the way–apparently has some malfunction or something. My wings transferred, so I'm nervous and excited about that. But Dr. Cullimore claims that it'll be dangerous to connect with my avatar because the DNA is unstable or some other shit like that."

I want to cut in and say that it's not shit, it's a legitimate danger, but I keep my silence for the sake of letting her continue.

She runs her hand down her face, "Anyway, it's still a little empty without Tom here. I know that the company was lucky to find Jake, but it's not the same." She hesitates. "I've been having nightmares about the night he died. I'm not going to go into detail for my own sanity. But it's starting to keep me up at night…to the point of not being able to get back to sleep." Her voice is hushed, to the point where I—with my advanced bird-girl hearing—can barely hear her. I take this as a sign to move on, look as if I'm important, like I have a plan or a job to do. But I can't help wondering if she noticed me, if she recognizes me.

"Angela," Cullimore draws my attention and I walk over to where he stands alongside Norman Spellman.

_He's nice-looking_, I note to myself once I have a good look at him. His face is kind and his stature, though wiry in some ways, is actually lightly muscled and well shaped. It takes a firm mental shaking to keep me from staring. I clear my throat and nod to Cullimore. "Yes, Max?"

"Hi," Norman cuts in before Cullimore can even get in a breath, "I'm Norm Spellman, Avatar Driver." He sticks out his hand and out of courtesy I reach out my own and place it in his. We shake hands for a moment and then I pull away my hand, still smiling politely.

"Angela Ride, Avatar Driver as well," I respond. "It's always a pleasure to meet the new drivers."

Norm's face lights with recognition, "You wouldn't happen to be related to Maximum Ride, would you?"

I shrug, "In a way. We're adopted, so that's our only tie," I try not to let any sour emotion slip into my voice. I guess I'm still pissed that she's here earlier than I'd thought. "She's taken good care of me growing up, though."

This has seemed to silence him. I direct my attention to Cullimore, who finally has time to speak.

"Angela has been with us since she signed up at the age of ten. She's done quite a lot of growing up since then, as you can see, but she's one of our top researchers," Cullimore states, looking irked because of being cut off twice by Norm. I smirk at the expression on his face. "She's in charge if both I and Dr. Augustine are unavailable."

I chuckle, "Which hardly ever happens." I pull at my tank top anxiously and give the two men a nod before heading back to the Link Room, which is buzzing with the noises of techs and machinery. I look at the readings on the screens; the current drivers were coming out of link, which meant Grace would be around soon, which meant I wouldn't have to deal with any of the orientation around the new drivers.

I make my way to Julianne's link unit and start running her stats, making sure she isn't over-working her avatar and that she's doing alright. Julianne is celebrating her first full year on Pandora and has a habit of overworking herself during link time, which transferred to mental weariness at times. The top pops open and I look over at the driver to smile at her. "How are we doing, Julie? Take things easy today?"

She nods and slowly sits up, "Yeah. It's so boring, though!"

I force a comforting laugh, "You only have yourself to blame. I told you to take it easy months ago. I'm sure Grace would agree with me." Julianne is twenty-two, a year my junior, but she acts as if she's sixteen sometimes, and she's been rebellious before, which is a trial. "Now go eat something, okay?"

Julie sighs, but obeys. I smile and wave to her as she leaves. It's not after that I hear Grace's dulcet tones, "_Who's got my goddamn cigarette?_ Guys, what's _wrong_ with this picture?"

A female tech hurries over with both her lab coat and her cigarette. I glance over at the scene with a bit of a smirk, but turn my attention to readying the unit for the next driver by closing the lid and running a few technical tests on it. My attention is drawn away from my unit as the new drivers walk by.

"…the head of the Avatar Program. She wrote the book, I mean, _literally _wrote the book on Pandoran botany."

I turn my head to look over my shoulder just as they walk away, making me curse myself internally for even bothering to look back. It's not my job anymore, after all. Now it's just making sure things run smoothly or just do what Grace tells me. I can't help myself, however, and leave my position to follow after them, hands in the pockets of my lab coat.

I pass the group of four to stand by Grace, offering her a small nod, which she returns with a drag of her cigarette and a look-over of Jake, Norm, Maximum, and Max. She doesn't seem impressed. She asks Norm about his Na'vi, to which he responds in the language. I note the formality of his tone and speech and I smile at him, impressed only a little by this after he stated his five years of training. At least he was qualified for this.

Maximum steps forward, "_Kaltxì_."

"You must be Maximum," Augustine frowns, observing her closely. Maximum nods. "I've heard about you. Angie says you're a fast thinker."

I nod, affirming that yes, this was what I'd said when I'd first been asked about her. I'd gushed about her then, when I was only fifteen and still a big fan of her. "She's the most confident person I know."

I feel Maximum's eyes lock on me and I turn my eyes on her just as her jaw drops. "Angel?"


End file.
